


Companion For Life

by SnowWhiteKnight



Series: The Many Relationships of Sandor Clegane [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sandor Clegane Is A Stark Man, Companion Piece, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short companion piece to "Friendship Is A Wonderful Thing", told from Sansa's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: 12 1/2 Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennilynn411](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilynn411/gifts).



> Jennilynn411 inspired this companion piece. Sansa is 6 years old in the prologue, which pairs with ch 16 and 17 of Friendship, 18 years old in chapter 2-5, and 19 years old in chapter 6. Sandor is 15-16 years older than her, so he is 22, 34 and 35 (give or take) in the respective chapters. 
> 
> I originally wanted to make this part of the original story, but it was such a different tone and I ended up writing it in tandem with Friendship, that I soon felt I needed to make it a separate piece. I hope you enjoy it. Theoretically, you should be able to read this without needing to read the Friendship story, but I've included what chapter of Companion pairs with what chapter of Friendship.

Sansa hugged the forbidden fabric to her chest, tears pouring down her face. She had managed to convince the seamstress to let her keep the fabric and not tell her mother nearly a month prior. She had tried to keep her distance from her best friend, but how could she if she couldn’t tell him what was wrong in the first place? She loved him with all her little heart and she knew he cared about her, even if he didn’t love her the same way.

She remembered what had sparked it all as she smoothed out the wrinkles from the hugged fabric. Mother had forbidden it, had forbidden her dream.  _ It’s not fair!! I was gonna marry Sandor and be his lady and kiss him all the time and have beautiful black-haired babies with grey eyes. Why does Mother hafta be so mean… Sandor is the bestest person ever. He’s so brave, and gentle and strong, but when he protects me he’s the fiercest ever! There can be no better husband for me! _ She wiped the tears from her face.  _ If I can’t have him, I don’t want any other. I don’t EVER want to part from him… _ She sniffled and jumped up. Determined, she found her heaviest cloak and headed to the godswood.

**********

She stood before the weirwood tree. It was the hour of the owl, much later than she normally stayed up, much scarier in the dark with no one else around, and much colder than she was used to. She knelt before the great tree and clasped her hands together on her lap.

_ I humbly beseech thee, old gods of my father’s faith, please let me stay by his side. Let me stay with Sandor for the rest of my life and I will devote myself to you. Please! Protect us, protect him most of all, and allow me to protect him as well as I can. He...he’s had a hard life, all Northmen do, but him more than others. I just want to be there for him, for always. _ The wind rustled the leaves of the tree, and she felt a peace descend over her. She whispered, “Thank you.”


	2. Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 56 of Friendship.

Sansa stalked the halls of Winterfell, looking for the familiar bulk she called her friend and protector. Mother was busy with Jeyne, her siblings were each off doing something else, she had finished her duties and chores for the day, which left her some precious alone time with Sandor. With Mother pressing her to make a decision to marry, she had found herself trying to spend more time with him in a non-shield and charge sort of way. Once she married, she wouldn't be able to do this with him anymore. If she ever managed to actually figure out where he was.

She finally found him in the great hall, writing down some notes as he sat at one of the long tables. As silently as possible, she snuck up behind him. She reached out to cover his eyes with her hands.

“If you want to sneak up on me, little bird, you need to stop using the lemon blossom soap,” he said without turning. She wrinkled her nose in disappointment, then jumped on his back, gaining an _Omf!_ from him. She felt his back stiffen as she pressed against him. She wondered if _other_ parts of him were stiffening as well. She knew she shouldn’t think about that sort of thing, as it was quite unladylike and he wasn't her intended no matter what she wished in her heart, but she couldn’t help it. He was bursting with virility and a natural seduction she could never hope to achieve.

“If I stop using that soap, what should I use? Maybe I could borrow yours instead, cover myself in your scent like a hunter would?” she purred seductively in his burnt earhole. At least, she hoped it was seductive. She didn't want to be practicing on anyone other than Sandor, and he was the one she wanted to seduce! It was a conundrum. The best she could do was ask Osha for advice. Sometimes Arya gave her advice too, who Sansa _knew_ was having a relationship with the blacksmith who looked an awful lot like Renly, the late king’s brother.

“I...I suppose t-that might w-work.” She smiled to herself. She never heard Sandor stutter to anyone else and she had yet to let go of him.

“Would you accompany me to the godswood please?” she asked suddenly.  _In for a copper, in for a dragon._ “Once you finish with what you’re doing, I mean. What are you doing anyway?”

“Writing a letter to the castellan a-at the Keep.” She pouted that he was recovering from his stutter already. It was adorable. She rubbed her cheek against his ruined one. She knew he had some feeling in it, thanks to the maester that preceded Maester Luwin, but not a lot. She had once kissed that cheek without him realizing it because of that fact.

“Oh, alright. I'll just wait until you’re finished then.” She still didn't let go of him.

“Sansa.”

“Yes?” she asked sweetly.

“Are you just going to stay on my back until I finish writing?” he asked.

“I'm comfortable here, so yes,” she replied. "I might even ask to be carried like this to the godswood. I haven't decided yet." He gave a heavy sigh and continued writing, though she thought it might have been a little faster than before.

**********

She pushed him to sit in front of the weirwood tree. He followed her lead without complaint. He did complain a little when she sat on his lap, but she shushed him and kissed him. He started to sputter adorably, but she shushed him a second time and did it again. She didn't really have a plan, except maybe asking him to run away with her after stealing a few kisses from him.

“Little bird, you shouldn’t...we shouldn’t…”

“I want to…” she bit her lip. Mother had said to never tell Sandor how she felt about him. As she had gotten older, she has seen the wisdom in this, but she also didn’t want to deny herself the sweet taste of him she had just discovered. “I want to...practice,” she said. It was true enough, and he could let her down gently if he didn’t want to be her practice partner.

“Practice?” He looked dubious.

“Yes, for...um...my future husband, whoever he may be?” She realized she probably should have stated that as less of a question. She cleared her throat and attempted to sound more authoritative. “I trust you. You would be honest about how I’m doing, you would tell me if I’m doing something wrong, or being silly, or stupid, or...or...anything else I need to know.” She looked up at him, feeling a little foolish. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first. I just got so ahead of myself.”

He looked up at the leaves of the weirwood tree, thinking about it, she supposed. She was worried he would get mad at her or scold her. She sort of liked it when he scolded her though, his voice went extra raspy at those times. He never yelled at her, like he did with other people. She bit her lip again, waiting impatiently for his response.

“Exactly what do you want to ‘practice’ on me?” he asked, still looking up at the leaves. Her heart jumped. He was going to say yes!

“Kissing, of course. Um, maybe, effective techniques to be seductive? Just...um...to keep y-- my future husband intrigued, not anything that would be actual seduction. That would be inappropriate.” _Sadly,_ she thought.

He rubbed his hand across his face, rubbing the scarred half. He did that when he was deep in thought. He looked slightly pained. Finally, he said, “Alright, but if your mother finds out…”

“She won’t!” She felt heady at his agreement and started kissing him again.


	3. Don't Push Me Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 57 of Friendship.

“Don’t open your mouth so much. You’re trying too hard when you do that.”

“Use your tongue a little more. You can swirl it around, too, not just stick it in. It’s fine to be a bit more aggressive, explore a little.”

“It’s fine if you moan. It lets your partner know you like what they’re doing.”

“You can kiss other parts, like the neck and...further down.”

She had pouted when he wouldn’t let her go farther down than his collarbone, but was delighted when he showed her what he meant. She thought she was going to pass out from how good it felt! They had been “practicing” for several weeks now. Sandor had been wary at first, never relaxing completely during their practice sessions. Then Father and the other men had returned with their rescue party and Mother was focusing on them, as well her new grandchild. Nowadays, Sandor fell completely into it, often losing track of the time they spent in the godswood. He was very good about not leaving marks on her, no matter how much she wished he would. She never vocalized that wish, but she did leave plenty of marks on him. He only complained once, because one of the other guards had teased him about it. She got the feeling he was more embarrassed that he couldn’t name the woman that was leaving the marks than over the marks themselves. She left him with more love bites that day and had him moaning her name by the end of it. He even forgot himself and was exploring her body with his hands, though he kept the exploration above her clothing. She didn’t want him regretting to this charade of hers.

**********

She had gotten good at kissing, if that hard part of Sandor was any indication. The daze she left him in was a pretty good sign, too. She had the feeling he was going to stop their “practicing” though, because it was getting harder and harder to get him to the godswood for them. That would not do. She needed a plan.

She was sitting with her father in his solar, discussing warden business before they went to hear petitions. He had been impressed with how well Sansa was handling being the Wardeness and had insisted she continue by his side. During this particular discussion, he brought up the subject of the Dreadfort. “I received the news this morning. The last of the Boltons supporters are no more, their smallfolk are free of their tyranny. We’re going to need to give them a new lord. One who is just, and will inspire loyalty in them, rather than fear--”

“Sandor!” she said, before she had really thought it through. Her father was surprised, but he took her consideration to heart.

“He would fit the criteria I just said, but Sansa, he would have to step down as your shield,” Ned pointed out gently.

She nodded. “I know, but…" She could trust him with this, couldn't she? "Father, I still love him. I never stopped. If he becomes a lord, if he replaces Roose Bolton, then, he would be elevated to my station, and he could ask for my hand, could he not?” She gave her father a pleading look. “He would be an excellent lord, though he would say he isn’t fit for it. He would inspire courage and honesty among the smallfolk. The people of the Dreadfort need a strong leader, and Sandor...he could be that leader. I _know_ he can do it.”

Ned sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “He could. Your mother wouldn’t object to the marriage as she once did, if he did become a lord. I’ll talk to her about it before I speak to Sandor.” He placed his hand on hers. “You are sure you want this?”

“I have been sure about Sandor since I was three years old, Father. Though, maybe not mention to Mother that it was my idea?”

Ned sighed, but he was smiling and trying not to laugh. “I know, Sansa. I know.”


	4. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 58 of Friendship

Father and Mother were talking to Sandor about his lordship today. Sansa was anxious. Sandor would choose her, wouldn’t he? All the things he had done with her, that he had been willing to do with her, that meant something, right? She had made the right choice, hadn’t she? What if he became a lord and didn’t ask for her hand, or decided not to marry at all, or even worse, decided to marry someone else?

Frustrated that her thoughts were so consumed by Sandor, she threw her door open, startling Lady who was quick to follow, and marched determinedly to the Great Hall. There were no petitions to listen to today, so she found the steward, Vayon Poole, and threw herself into helping him.

**********

Two days. He had been offered the lordship two days ago. He hadn’t said anything to her about it. Had barely spoken to her at all, and refused to go to the godswood with her. When he was with her, it felt like he was a million miles away.  _ He’s avoiding me. _

She pulled Arya aside. “Have you noticed how odd Sandor has been lately?” 

Arya eyed her before answering, “I have. You got any idea why?”

Sansa wasn’t supposed to know about the offer for the lordship, and truthfully, she wasn’t sure if that was the true cause, so she shook her head. “Would you please speak with him? I feel like he would respond to you better about this.”

Arya nodded. “Of course. I’ll go right now.”


	5. Getting Over Someone Is Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 59 of Friendship.

Sansa wanted to cry very badly, but she held her head high and pushed back her tears. Sandor finally met her in the godswood, but it was to tell her he was leaving on a diplomatic mission for her parents. In less than an hour. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t feel it necessary, little bird.”

She could only nod, her jaw set tightly. “I know you wouldn't, but...I’m going to miss you.” _And you haven’t “practiced” with me since before…_ She tried not to think about that.

“I’ll miss you as well. I’ll bring you back something, I promise.” She glared at him, though he only chuckled.

“I’m _not_ a child anymore, Sandor. You can’t bribe me with presents,” she said. _Do you still think of me as such? Is that why you allowed me to “practice” on you and then didn’t take the lordship and make an offer for me?_

“So, you _don’t_ want me to bring you back something? Not even a small one?” he asked, trying not to smile. _Insufferable man!_

“I still don’t see why I can’t just come with you,” she said with a scowl, knowing she wasn’t helping the _I’m not a child anymore_ case, but not really caring. He had obviously rejected the lordship, rejected the idea of marrying her, and to top it all off, he was leaving her behind, damnit!

“You’ll be safer here, which is my number one priority as your shield, and it won’t take as long with one rider as it would with two or more. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Now, are you going to sulk and pout or are you going to wish me well on my journey?” He gave her a gentle smile then, and she felt very childish indeed, but she was still upset.

 _Fine. I’m getting one last kiss in though!_ She looked up at him with what she hoped was devious seduction, “I wish you well on your journey, San--”

“Sandor!” Jory called out, coming up the path in the godswood with only the slightest of limps. “Lord Stark is looking for you.”

“I’ll be right there.” He turned back to her. “You were saying?”

She swallowed hard, trying not to cry and mostly succeeding. “Iwishyouwellonyourjourneypleasecomebackswiftlyandsafely,” she said in a rush and walked as quickly as she could out of the godswood, not meeting his or Jory’s eyes as she passed them.

**********

Sansa sat with her father and concentrated on the petitions of the people in front of them. She had become much more studious since Sandor left in a brave effort to try and forget about him and his complete rejection. It mostly worked.

Five days since Sandor left, and her father called her into his solar. “Sansa, are you alright?” he asked after she took a seat. "You've been very distracted lately.

“Of course, Father. I’ve just been…” She bit her lip. Father knew. She could talk to him about it, couldn’t she? “Why didn’t he take the lordship? Why didn’t he want to marry me? I always thought…” Her vision became watery and she didn’t fight the spill of hot tears. “I always believed that he felt the same way about me, that if given the chance, that he would… Does he not love me like I love him?” she choked out.

“Sansa… Damnit, this is why I was against their plan,” Ned said, shaking his head. “Here, I’m supposed to wait a few more days, but you should read this now.” He handed her a sealed parchment. She took it with trembling hands and broke the seal.

_Dearest Sansa,_

_Forgive me, but your mother thought it best to wait for you to know and I agreed with her. I accepted an offer from Lord Stark to become the new lord of the Dreadfort. I have also made the offer for your hand in marriage. Your parents have accepted it, and we will be married as soon as you wish it._

_Your betrothed,_ _  
_ _Sandor_

“He’s...we’re…” she was having a hard time processing it. “ _He left me news like this in a letter?!”_ she shrieked. “Father, I’m going to kill him.”

Catelyn came into the room. “What is all this noise about? Neddy is about to fall asleep, you can’t be causing such a frakus.”

Sansa turned on her mother. “You _knew_ about this!” she said angrily, shoving the letter at her. Catelyn took a quick glance at it.

“Ned! You were suppose to wait until a whole sennight had gone by!” she admonished him.

“I never agreed that this was the best plan,” he countered, “and neither of you has seen her suffering from thinking he didn’t want her! She’s my daughter, I couldn’t let her stay in pain like that.”

“Wh-- How could she think he didn’t want her? She didn’t...know...about…” Catelyn turned back to Sansa. “You knew about the lordship?”

“It was her idea, Cat,” Ned said.

“I didn’t think you would approve of it if you thought it came from me,” Sansa replied. “You haven’t exactly been Sandor’s biggest supporter or mine when it came to wanting to marry him.”

“Oh, sweetling,” Cat said and embraced her stubbornly angry daughter. Sansa did not return the hug. “I had no idea. No wonder...Ned, why didn’t you tell me?”

“She didn’t want Sandor to know either, and you two thought up this ridiculous plan to keep her from finding out before I could tell you. I had _hoped_ it wouldn’t become an issue, but once I realized that it had, I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.”

“Why would you want to not tell me?!” Sansa cried. “I have been wanting this for so long!”

“I were afraid you would insist on going with him to the Dreadfort. He went to see to things there, not on a diplomatic mission. If you went with him, it would have taken longer and…”

“I am _eighteen years old_ , and in less than three moons, I will be nineteen, and you thought I couldn’t handle being told that I couldn’t go with my betrothed to our future home?” she asked in disbelief. “I am _not_ a petulant child. I would have been upset, of course, but I would have stayed here if he bid me to and started preparations for the wedding.”

Catelyn looked at Ned for support, but he just put his hands up. “Don’t look at me, I said we should tell her straight away. You were the one who convinced Sandor it would be better to wait.”

She huffed at him, and turned back to Sansa. “Sweetling, I am so sorry, but look on the bright side. You are betrothed to Sandor, like you always wanted. Why don’t you send him a raven and tell him you know the good news?”

“Oh, I’ll send him news alright. None of it will be fit for a lady’s ears!” she said and stormed out to visit the rookery, ignoring her mother calling her back.

It took her three tries to make the message short enough to send by raven, but she was satisfied with the result.

_Sandor, you son of a biscuit eating bulldog! How dare you tell me of our betrothal in such a way! I should REFUSE your offer, based on this alone, but I won’t. I have loved you too long and spent far too much time keeping you at a distance, but I will have revenge for this slight. Mark my words. Yours Always, Sansa _

She sent the raven off with a dark heart. _Stupid, idiotic Sandor._

She tossed and turned that night, angry, but also regretting her hasty response. Arya came to see her in the morning. “He wasn’t sure if he should tell you or not. Mother was the one that convinced him, and she was just trying to keep everyone acting proper. She wasn’t being malicious about it.”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Sansa asked in annoyance.

“Because I know you. I know you sent him a note when you were angry, and I know you are sorry about it. I know that you’re going to be out of sorts until you fix it, and I know you need someone to be thinking clearly to tell you that you are right about being angry, but you need to be right about forgiving him as well. He’s stupid, but you love him anyway. He’s going to make more mistakes, but so will you. He’ll learn from his. Will you?”

Sansa stared at her younger sibling. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Arya shrugged. “I had a pretty good older sister, as well as some good friends, who taught me a thing or two over the years.”

Later that day, Sansa sent out another raven.

_Dearest Sandor, as you asked me to forgive you, I must now ask for your forgiveness as well. I should not have acted so harshly. Whatever your reasons, I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I promise to be a good and faithful wife who deserves your love and concern. I wish I could be there to show you exactly what you mean to me. Yours Always, Sansa_

She sent another message later that same day, after Catelyn scolded her for using so many ravens, though she did include a short update on wedding preparations. She did not tell him of the special yellow fabric she already had for his cloak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be paired with ch 62.


	6. Back In The Godswood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairs with ch 62 of Friendship.

Sansa wanted to giggle, but it would have been highly inappropriate. Sandor seemed to be in a complete daze once he had laid eyes on her. He managed to say all the right words at all the right spots in the sept ceremony. As they and the rest of the wedding party left the sept, she nodded to Arya, who provided a distraction for her and Sandor to slip away.

Soon, they stood in front of the weirwood tree in the godswood. She told him of the promise she had made to the old gods, and asked him to say their vows here, where they could see. The wind through the leaves sounded like the gods were happy, if Osha was to be believed.

“Didn’t take as long as the sept ceremony,” Sandor commented.

She smiled. “No. The old gods are not as complicated as the Faith of the Seven.” She stayed rooted in place when he turned to leave, tugging at the hand she still held.

“Something wrong, little bird?” he asked, turning back to her. She bit her lip, nervous about what she wanted to ask him. “Little bird?” he asked again.

“Sandor...I...um...will you...can our first time be here, in the godswood?” she asked, her face turning bright red, though she hoped it wasn’t visible in the moonlight.

His mouth dropped open in shock.

“It’s just...this place has always been special to me, to us, and we’ve spent so much time here. I thought...maybe for our first time...it should be here?” He still didn’t say anything, his mouth still hung open slightly. She took the opportunity to gently kiss him, standing as tall on her tiptoes as possible. She deepened the kiss, which seemed to wake him up a bit and he responded.

Unclasping her cloak, she spread it out carefully on a soft plot of grass before lying down.

He kneeled between her legs. “Sansa, are you sure? This isn't exactly the most comfortable place, and the first time is never pleasant.”

“I am sure,” she said, and lifted her skirts.

He sucked in a breath. “You’re...you're not wearing…”

She grinned. “I wanted to make this easier for you. We don't have a lot of time, and you’ll be thinking about it plenty during the feast.”

“You're going to be the death of me, little bird,” he groaned. “Your first time should special, with...birds singing. Or minstrels playing every love song they know. Or...something like that…maybe candles...”

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him. She whispered against his lips in between kisses, “Silly man, it’s special because it's _you_. Never doubt that.”

“Sansa…”

She reached in between them and fumbled to undo the laces of his breeches, still kissing him. He was unguarded. The carefully kept wall around his emotions was tall and normally could not be breached, but right now, he was opening the door to let her in. A very Sansa-shaped door that had been waiting, locked and guarded, but now he was ready to let her in completely. She was his. She had always been his. And now, he was hers until death, and maybe even beyond that.

She pushed his breeches down, and took him in her hand, stroking him the way Osha had taught her on various elongated vegetables. She had blushed so much, but she endured the embarrassment in order to learn how to please Sandor, how to tempt him, how to tease him and make him last. Maybe not for their first time, since their window of opportunity was quickly closing before someone came looking for them, but for later, after the feast, and every night after that. For now, she just wanted to be claimed by him.

Her other hand was undoing the laces on the front of her dress. She had made the dress with tonight specifically in mind, easy access for the man she had been waiting so long for. He noticed what she was doing and started helping. Once her bodice was loosened enough, he pulled the fabric down so he could cup her breast with his warm, calloused palm, kneading it gently, as he kissed her along her neck and down her collarbone.

“Sandor,” she moaned.

“Little bird, I can’t…I won’t be able to stop once we start...”

“It’s ok,” she whispered. “Do it, take me, make me yours.”

He pushed his manhood in between her legs, rubbing the tip of it against her, coating it in her slickness. Osha had told her this would help a bit, but to just try and relax no matter what. She liked how it felt, how he rubbed against the nub that sent zings throughout her body. Even with her body ready, it hurt when he started to push into her, stretching her out, tearing through her maidenhead, but it was a good kind of pain, one she embraced because it meant this was real.

_Breathe! Remember to breathe!_ He kissed her, apologizing for any pain he caused her. It made her love him just a little bit more, if that were possible. She kissed him in return and told him any pain was worth it to be his wife, that she knew he would make it up to her in the future. She thought he might have been about to cry, from happiness she hoped, but she was having none of that right now and kissed him fiercely, moving underneath him. _The sword goes into the sheath, but the sheath can just as easily go over the sword._ It was not unpleasant, but she didn’t really see what Osha had told her about, at least not until Sandor started moving as well, whispering in her ear how much he loved her, how much he had wanted her, how he had often taken himself in hand while thinking of her. Strange sensations coursed through her brain and heart, mixing with the physical ones, giving her an inkling of what Osha had called “dying from joy.” Her heart was beating rapidly, her breath was as fast as if she had been running. She gripped Sandor’s tunic as she felt a fluttering of _something._ “Sandor…please, my love...” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what she was begging for.

Sandor started to speed up and with a great grunt, a minor howl and a strained _Sansa!_  he spilled his seed in her, the look on his face was one of extreme satisfaction and relief. She had hoped to find her own satisfaction, but there was still their official bedding, and of course, their lifetime together. She would find it, Sandor would make sure of it. She had been patient this long, she could be patient for a while longer. She smiled to herself and kissed his brow as he panted over her. “I love you, Sandor.”

He looked startled, but smiled and said, “I love you, too, little bird.”

**********

Later, after the feast and they had retired to their designated bridal chambers, Sandor took his time to explore her body and found the right spots to caress and kiss, to prod and suckle, in order to give her satisfaction with only his hands and mouth. He took her again after that, filling her, making her feel whole, and used his newfound knowledge to send her over into happy oblivion. They fell into a peaceful sleep, with Sandor murmuring promises to make sure she was always satisfied, in every way possible.


End file.
